


Hands

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Kageyama is a sports therapist, Karasuno Neighborhood Association - Freeform, M/M, Slice of Life, Suga is a veterinarian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga and Kageyama have played together on the Karasuno Neighborhood Association team for years, but as they age, Suga starts to see his youth slink away in the rear view mirror, as well as his chances for a meaningful relationship. He thinks that Kageyama might feel the same way, only to find that Kageyama already has someone in mind, even if he'll never screw up the courage to ask.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the tumblr prompt: things you said too quietly. It's vague, but in there. Ish. Don't judge me. This story was supposed to be under 1k. >.>

Sweat slides between Suga’s shoulder blades as his head lolls back in pleasure. He cries out, “Yes! Right there!” His eyes squeeze shut as the utter bliss renders further speech impossible.

The hands kneading the knots out of his lower legs still for a moment upon hearing Suga’s guttural groan.

“Does that hurt, Suga-san?” Kageyama asks. At Suga’s unintelligible burble, the younger man shakes his head. “You should stretch better, Suga-san. If you hurt yourself, you can’t play volleyball.”

Suga wants to laugh at the serious tone in Kageyama’s voice, the air that not playing volleyball is the absolute worst possible outcome. But as Kageyama’s strong, deft hands continue to massage away the cramp that had made Suga fall like a sack of potatoes in the middle of their Wednesday night practice, he turns to butter beneath Kageyama’s practiced ministrations.

They’re both getting too old for this, but Suga wouldn’t trade a second of it until his body truly gives out on him. Forty isn’t too terribly old, he doesn’t think, but he wakes up with stiff joints and sore muscles more often than not, no matter how many stretches he does.

“You worry too much, Tobio,” Suga huffs as Kageyama’s fingers dig into a particularly wound up spot. “It’s not like Keishin didn’t play until last year, and he chain smoked.”

He can almost feel Kageyama shaking his head without even looking over his shoulder. They know each other far too well by now, even after the different paths they’ve both taken to wind up playing surprisingly competitive volleyball for the Karasuno Neighborhood Association.

Both of them had gone to college in different prefectures, only to come back to rural Miyagi with degrees and a new direction in life. Suga is a veterinarian by day and Kageyama a sports therapist, and their careers have been disturbingly useful to their team. Suga’s stitched a split eyebrow on the sidelines during a match, and Kageyama has helped his teammates work through a number of injuries in the ten years they’ve played together.

The only thing that surprises Suga about his life anymore is that he’s alone. It isn’t that he has unrealistic expectations for what the world owes him, because it doesn’t owe him anything. But coming home after work to an empty apartment, with two cats instead of kids and a dormant dating profile instead of a significant other, feels like he missed his train stop and ended up in the wrong prefecture.

He doesn’t even know how Kageyama feels about having just turned thirty-eight and not so much as a goldfish to keep him company at home.

“You know, we should both put ourselves out there more,” Suga interjects suddenly.

Kageyama’s hands fumble on Suga’s thigh, and there is a muttered string of curses as his fingers bash awkwardly into the wooden bench below. Suga chortles and wonders how Kageyama has survived the past few decades being this awkward.

“Don’t you sometimes wonder what it would be like to come home to someone?” he asks, very curious as to whether Kageyama sits with the same level of uncertainty on the subject as Suga. “Someone to make you soup when you’re sick, and sit with you at the kotatsu while you eat dinner and talk about your day?”

Kageyama is quiet for longer than Suga feels comfortable with before quietly answering, “Of course I do.”

Suga turns over, ignoring the fact that he’s completely naked, and stares at Kageyama. “Then why don’t you go for it? You’re a good-looking guy, and I’m sure plenty of women would be interested in you.”

Something cold drops over Kageyama’s expression as he turns and leans his forehead into one of the lockers of the changing room. “I can’t, Suga-san. I can’t date other people if I already feel that way about someone else.”

Blinking in surprise, Suga gets off the bench and touches Kageyama’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had someone in mind already.” Kageyama flinches at his touch, and it makes Suga feel queasy. “So, no chance of you confessing to this person and starting something?”

“No,” Kageyama hisses. “He’ll never feel that way about me.”

“Ohhhh.” Suga understands some of Kageyama’s difficulty. They’ve known each other for nearly twenty-five years, and in that time, Kageyama has not seemed outwardly interested in anyone, romantically or sexually, to Suga’s knowledge. If someone were to ask Suga what Kageyama’s sexual orientation is, he wouldn’t be able to answer for sure.

But what Suga does know is that one can’t know some things by observation alone. He had made the off-hand comment about putting more effort into dating in the hopes he might find someone to hold him accountable for it. To make him make good on his desire to find someone special, and not just absently wish for it. Kageyama is nothing if not intent on a task.

“So, no chance you could just confess and see where it takes you?” Suga asks hopefully. Now that he knows Kageyama is unhappy in his love life, it doesn’t sit right with Suga at all to think about him silently suffering. He understands from experience what this does to his former kouhai, and knows that sometimes it’s the least painful route to lance the wound so it can recover and heal.

Kageyama shakes his head rapidly. “He’ll never see me that way, but it’s okay. I see him almost every day and he’s my friend, so that’s something to look forward to.”

His curiosity piqued, Suga urges, “A co-worker, then?”

“No, Suga-san.”

“A neighbor?”

With a sigh, Kageyama drapes a towel over his head as he slumps onto the bench Suga vacated. “No, Suga-san,” he repeats, his voice muffled by terrycloth.

“Do I know him?”

It’s impossible to miss the muscles in Kageyama’s forearms clench and twitch at this question, and Suga knows he’s hit a nerve. Kageyama has always been a terrible liar and honest to a fault with Suga, so before the younger man says anything he’ll regret, Suga grips his shoulder and says, “It’s okay not to tell me. I shouldn’t be so nosy.” He droops onto the bench, unmindful of his nudity, and leans against Kageyama. “I just want you to be happy.”

After a solid minute of tenable silence, Kageyama affirms what Suga already knows. “You do know him. Very well.”

Suga smiles widely. “There, then you’ll be okay. Anyone I know who is good enough for my most special kouhai would never be terrible about a confession, so if you decide to go for it, the worst thing that could happen is he says no.”

“That’s not the worst thing.” Kageyama shivers. “Pity. Disgust. Discomfort. I’m afraid of these things, Suga-san.”

Nodding in understanding, Suga admits, “I’m probably too optimistic, anyway. I just think about how I would react, and I couldn’t imagine doing that to you.” Suga slips an arm around Kageyama’s shoulder and nuzzles into the hollow of his neck. “We’re a pair, aren’t we?”

Suga’s eyes fly open in surprise when lips brush against his hand. Kageyama’s blue eyes are looking anywhere but at him, and this is when Suga knows. When the mist rises and reveals this weighty secret that Kageyama has ferried around.

Unsure what to do or say, Suga’s arm drops and he reaches for the towel in his volleyball bag to drape over his exposed midsection, his face bright red. He doesn’t know who he expected Kageyama’s secret love to be, but now that the thinks about both the criteria and what he knows about Kageyama, it seems painfully obvious.

He can just barely comprehend how he’s supposed to feel about it. Unless Suga has grossly misinterpreted the signs — and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t — Kageyama is in love with him to some degree. With this information, it calls into question everything Suga thinks he knows about his longtime friend.

The idea of another man being in love with him is a non-issue for Suga. He believes attraction to be much like a roulette wheel — it’s almost impossible to predict where it will land, so the safe bet is none at all. His true quandary is what to do with these feelings presented to him.

Kageyama, who took nearly ten years to admit out loud that Suga is his friend. If this is the gauge, Suga can only guess at how long Kageyama has harbored this crush. No, not a crush. Crushes are for school children, and Kageyama has never connected to other people easily. If the feelings are there, then Suga doesn’t doubt for a second that they are real or strong.

And the mere idea of it makes something warm burn in Suga’s chest.

But as he opens his mouth to say something — what, he doesn’t know — Kageyama rises from the bench, walks out the door, and turns left. Not the hallway leading back to their practice gym, but the one leaving the local recreational facility.

“Wait,” Suga breathes, well after Kageyama has gone, and maybe too late entirely.

 

Kageyama doesn’t return for practice, and Suga isn’t surprised. However, when a week passes by and Kageyama is nowhere to be found, their teammates start to make note of his absence.

“Suga, have you seen Kageyama?” asks Kinoshita Makota, younger brother of Suga’s former teammate, Kinoshita Hisashi, and yet another Karasuno High School Volleyball Club alumnus. “He’s usually an hour early, and the idea of him skipping practice for a week is kind of creeping me out.”

Lowering his head, Suga shakes his head. “I don’t know. I was hoping he would be back by now.”

As the only person on the neighborhood team who has known Kageyama nearly as long as Suga, Kinoshita frowns. “What happened?”

“It’s complicated,” Suga says cryptically, not willing to share anything Kageyama doesn’t want anyone else to know. “I just wish he would talk to me.”

Kinoshita shrugs. “Then _you_ go talk to him. You know where he works, you know where he lives, and you _know_ how he is.”

Suga sighs as he tugs on his court shoes. “I suppose you’re right.” No, he is very aware of how right Kinoshita is, but he isn’t quite ready yet to answer questions about the last conversation he’d had with Kageyama.

A week is a long time to think about something when it won’t stay out of one’s mind. Such is the case for Suga after Kageyama’s hesitant confession. The event replaying itself time after time has saturated his days since it happened, with his only respite being work and (mostly) sleep. It doesn’t escape his notice that the only way to regain his sanity is to, as Kinoshita has suggested, talk to Kageyama. If not for Kageyama’s sake, then for his own.

Without another word, he strides out of the gym and heads for the only place he can think of where he might find Kageyama on a Tuesday night.

The gym is fairly busy, with an influx of the after-work crowd monopolizing the elliptical machines. Through the throng, however, it’s still easy to spot Kageyama, his teeth clenched as he practically sprints full-tilt on a treadmill. Sweat is dripping down his face and off his chin, and Suga wonders how long Kageyama has been running at such breakneck speeds.

If he sees Suga approach, Kageyama gives no sign of it. With a huff, Suga reaches out and taps the speed control until Kageyama reflexively slows down to a more sedate pace. When he looks down at the keypad and sees a hand, he whips his head to the side and almost topples off the treadmill when he sees Suga.

Suga powers off the machine as Kageyama scrambles to his feet. He isn’t surprised when Kageyama begins to back away towards the changing room; he even expects it. Which is why he knows to shoot out his hand and grip Kageyama’s shoulder with all the strength he can muster in his hands.

Kageyama winces but stops, averting his gaze, but for the moment, Suga just needs him to listen. “Don’t think you can skip practice and get away with it. Half the team thought something horrible happened to you.”

“And what did you say?” Kageyama croaked.

“Nothing,” Suga admitted, easing his grip on Kageyama somewhat. “Though they had the mistaken impression that I know what’s going on in that head of yours. I did disabuse them of that ridiculous notion, as I clearly don’t know what you’re thinking.”

There is a minute flinch as Kageyama takes this in, but Suga thinks he deserves it for going off the radar for so long. “After all, how are they supposed to know you confessed, only to run away before I even get a chance to answer.”

The muscles underneath Suga’s hand tense. “And what would that be?” Kageyama asks, his voice weak and wobbling. Suga hates it because it’s not like Kageyama at all. Not the Kageyama who sprouted from the concrete in Karasuno.

“My answer would be that there’s no reason to not give it a try,” Suga blurts, not having settled on saying that at all. However, as it comes out of his mouth, he knows it’s the right thing. Maybe because he doesn’t want this rift between him and Kageyama anymore, or maybe because he’s tired of letting life pass him by. It doesn’t matter.

Kageyama gapes at him, but Suga doesn’t buckle under his intense gaze. Instead, he crosses his arms and bobs his head affirmatively. “Now, if you don’t mind, we have volleyball practice, and I’d very much like to work on our B quick before we play Murata on Friday. I’m honestly disappointed that I even have to remind you.”

It’s almost an instant change as Kageyama the volleyball player kicks into gear. Suga can’t help but chuckle as Kageyama absently allows Suga’s fingers to lace with his as they both walk out of the gym to an audience of gawking Nine to Fivers, who probably understand less of Kageyama’s high-speed genius speak than Suga does. But this is Kageyama, and he’s Kageyama again. And he’s holding Suga’s hand.

Suga thinks he kind of likes it. It isn’t until they are outside the town recreational center that Kageyama stops mid-stride and looks nervously at the entrance. “Do we tell them?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Suga assures him. “They’ll just be glad to see you’re still alive.”

Kageyama doesn’t look so sure. “Do you really want this, Suga-san? If you don’t, I promise I won’t ignore you anymore. I kept this to myself for long enough, I think I can manage it again.”

“But you shouldn’t have to and, moreover —” Suga inhales deeply. “— I don’t want you to.” Without preamble, he leans forward and pecks Kageyama on the mouth before retreating sheepishly.

As far as a first kiss is concerned, it’s nothing to write home about. The prize, however, is wide-eyed surprise, followed by a dopey, serene smile from Kageyama. Knowing he put that rare expression on Kageyama’s face makes Suga’s heart stutter in his ribcage. He’s blushing; he knows he’s blushing.

They walk hand in hand into the changing room, even though they’re both already dressed to play and steal another kiss or two before they walk back onto the court at each other’s side.

A few of their team members give them curious looks (which Suga imagines are due to Kageyama’s sudden reappearance, rather than the beatific smile on his face), but they all go back to their drills like nothing has changed at all.

Only Kinoshita notices the difference in them, and he turns to give them a double thumbs-up before running in to showily spike a less than ideal bump-set from their libero. Suga has a feeling that Kinoshita knows (both the Kinoshita brothers are disturbingly observant about such things), but if it’s a problem, he shows no sign of it.

Suga turns to Kageyama and elbows him in the side. “See? Nothing to see here. Just guys minding their own business.”

Kageyama looks down to see their still-linked hands and looks at them in wonder, and Suga thinks it might be the cutest thing he’s seen since the pug triplets he helped deliver last year.

Squeezing Kageyama’s hand, Suga teases: “Now let’s go play, loverboy. We have a lot of catching up to do.”


End file.
